


Fool's Game

by Charnia



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-02
Updated: 2011-02-02
Packaged: 2017-10-15 07:44:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/158612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charnia/pseuds/Charnia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A job goes wrong and Taliesen is injured.  Instead of leaving him to his fate, Zevran puts his own life at risk helping him escape.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fool's Game

Zevran dropped from the wall, his soft-soled boots muffling the sound of his feet hitting the cobbles of the street outside the workshop. He dashed toward the alley, knowing Taliesen would follow after him. He reached the alley and turned in its shadow, looking for Taliesen.

He saw Taliesen top the wall. But then Taliesen gave a strangled cry and half-jumped, half-fell off the wall. He hit the ground awkwardly, falling to his knees. Without even thinking Zevran ran back out of the alley to him. He already knew it was bad. Taliesen’s face was pale even in the light from the near-full moon, and his lips were drawn back from clenched teeth. Zevran followed his eyes down to see the arrow sticking out of Taliesen’s thigh, the blood black in the darkness. Taliesen would not be doing any running that night.

Before Zevran could stop him Taliesen yanked the arrow out of his leg, his breath hissing between his teeth as he sucked in air. He threw it to the ground and staggered back to lean against the wall, pulling his sword. “Planning on watching?” he growled. “They’ll get you too.” The look in his eyes was enraged, helpless. Zevran knew he should run. But instead he took a step toward Taliesen.

His sword raised as if to hold Zevran off. Zevran paused, looking him in the eye, and he lowered it. Going to Taliesen’s side, Zevran pulled Taliesen’s arm over his shoulder and put his arm around his waist. Taliesen grunted with pain as he pushed away from the wall and they started down the road toward the alley that led, eventually, to the safehouse.

The last time they’d had their arms around each other like this was after a night out, Taliesen, him, and Lora. Titus, as usual, was home with his books. They’d been celebrating a job that had gone particularly well, and on their way home Taliesen had thrown his arm around Zevran’s shoulders. Even half-drunk as he was Taliesen had noticed the mocking look Lora shot him, and stepped away—at least until they’d gotten back home. Zevran had a feeling this night would not end as pleasantly.

Zevran half-carried Taliesen to the shelter of the alley. The taller human’s breath panted in his ear, harsh with pain, as he tried to support himself on his wounded leg. There was no way they would make the safehouse with him wounded. Their pursuers would be close behind them, and they needed to get out of sight fast. At least he’d had the luck to kill their dog.

The dark alley was cluttered with garbage and empty crates, and Taliesen stumbled more than once. Every time they reached a door Zevran would try it, but without much hope they’d find one unbarred. He knew how this would end. They’d end up holed away behind some cover, so they couldn’t be shot, and the guards would just pin them down while they rounded up backup. In the end they’d be dragged out and killed, their skill useless against sheer numbers. But still he tried the doors.

Then, just after he tried a door (barred, again), he happened to look up and see an open window. It was set low in the wall, and only one shutter remained, swung wide open. The building must be abandoned, he thought.

“Taliesen. Can you get me up there?” he asked.

Taliesen looked up at the window and laughed harshly. “Yesterday, yes.”

Zevran thought he could hear footsteps approaching. He was about to remind Taliesen it was that or get killed, but Taliesen had already sheathed his sword and was interlacing his fingers, leaning back against the wall for support, crouching slightly. Zevran put his foot in the make-shift stirrup and hoped Taliesen’s leg would hold. Taliesen hoisted him up toward the window, no sound of pain escaping him. The windowsill grew close enough to reach with his fingers, then close enough that he could throw his arms over the sill. He pulled himself up and kicked off the side the building, wriggling inside.

He felt a surge of relief when he hit the floor, and for a moment it occurred to him he could just lie here, or go out the front, and leave Taliesen behind. But a second later he was on his feet and making his way through the darkness. He found the stairs and went down, cautious in spite of the need for hurry. The building was abandoned, but that did not mean it was empty. He reached the ground floor with no sign of life, and a moment later was pulling back the bar on the back door. Almost as soon as it was unbarred Taliesen threw himself inside, making Zevran’s hand dart for his dagger before he recognized him. He closed the door and barred it again.

“They’re coming,” Taleisen said, his voice coarse from pain. “I don’t think they saw me.”

Zevran said nothing, but waited by the door, and soon heard their pursuers rushing by outside. Someone grabbed the door handle and shook it, and he tightened his hand on the hilt of his sword. As long as no one saw the open window. . . Their footsteps and the sound of their voices faded, and Zevran let out a long breath.

He was taken totally by surprise when Taliesen grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. Taliesen’s fist swung towards his face. Reflexively, he threw his arm up. The punch still glanced off his jaw, clipping his teeth together, catching his tongue. His mouth filled with blood.

Taliesen grabbed him with his other hand, and shoved him back into the wall, pinning him there with his weight. But Zevran’s dagger was already out and at Taliesen’s throat. For a moment they were still, staring at each other in the dim light that filtered in from the front of the building. Shadows hid Taliesen’s face, and Zevran could feel his heart pounding in his chest. What was Taliesen thinking?

Finally Taliesen slowly straightened up, stepping away, favoring his injured leg. “You shouldn’t have come back,” he said, his voice rough with anger.

Zevran slowly lowered the dagger and spat blood on the floor. “You punched me because I _saved your life_?”

“You shouldn’t have come after me. Stupid shit like that will get you killed.”

Zevran said nothing for a long moment. Yes, it was stupid. He hardly knew why he’d done it in the first place, it was just an automatic reaction. But if another Crow were to behave so idiotically and he benefited from it, he would hardly try to discourage it—that in itself was idiotic. Finally he slipped the dagger back into its sheathe and said tightly, “Never do that again.” The threat remained unspoken. There was no need to state it—a Crow shouldn’t have to.

Of course a Crow also should not attack another, that was “damaging Crow property”, as Master Decio said (a little sardonically, but he meant it). And if attacked, a Crow should not waste time on a warning. It seemed both of them were acting the fool. There would be no revelry after this job.

Taliesen just nodded, his jaw muscles working as he clenched his teeth against the pain. He staggered back and leaned against the floor, then slid down it to sit on the ground, stretching his leg out in front of him. Cautiously, Zevran went to him and crouched by his side to see what he could do about the wound before they could get to safety.


End file.
